


christmas dinner and diatribes

by crimsonpeak2015



Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:21:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21952123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonpeak2015/pseuds/crimsonpeak2015
Summary: Dinner is slow and dull and tense, and Roman spends most of it sending stupid memes to Gerri, which she doesn’t respond to. He fidgets, kicking her in the shins until she steps firmly on his foot without batting an eye. It’s too much, sitting here waiting, being ignored.He plays out scenes in his head, because she’s sitting across from him with her blue dress and her blue eyes and she’s the most radiant person he’s ever laid eyes on, and he just can’t help himself.
Relationships: Gerri Kellman/Roman "Romulus" Roy
Comments: 4
Kudos: 79





	christmas dinner and diatribes

**Author's Note:**

> this is my little holiday contribution!!! happy holidays to all of you guys, i hope you have a great hanukkah or christmas or other holiday(s)!!!

Roman fucking hates the family Christmas parties. They’re not so much parties as they are an elaborate interrogation strategy concocted by his dad, because nothing is ever as simple as “spending time with your family” for them. He guesses he’s used to it by now, the offputting smoothie of nostalgia for things they never had and the feeling of always being watched. Logan definitely gets off on watching people’s masks slip, and Christmas parties are the ideal place for that. Luckily for Roman, his mask is so deeply ingrained in him at this point that even he doesn’t really know who the real person is. 

They’re all mingling around and drinking and for some reason this year is the worst it’s ever been. Connor’s going off on Tom, a person he’d never thought he’d ever feel sorry for, about taxes or states rights or something else racist. And Shiv is flirting with one of the caterers (because of fucking course there are caterers even though its just their family) . And Kendall is off god-knows-where probably ODing, and Roman really doesn’t blame him.

He grabs a bottle of whatever and slips off to the bathroom, his signature move if he ever had one. Sitting on the bathroom floor, he listens to the shouts and forced laughs that echo through the tile, and he feels particularly alone tonight. Gerri should be here, he concludes. That’s why the night has felt particularly sinister. Everything feels safer when she’s around. She’s like one of those metal things they tie to balloons to keep them from floating away and killing a sea turtle. Roman wonders if everyone else would agree. He pulls out his phone to call her, to invite her over. It’s out of pure selfishness but he still hopes she’ll appreciate the gesture. And he won’t get in trouble, she’s basically family, right? Like, she’s Shiv’s godmother, so that basically counts. Fuck it.

The phone rings and rings and Roman isn’t entirely sure if she’s withholding on purpose, to tease him, or if she really can’t talk. 

On like the 7th ring, finally, he hears the click and the sigh and the soft voice on the other line, annoyed as ever. He already feels better, just talking to her. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be at a holiday party?” 

“But everyone is terrible” he’s whining and he knows it, can picture her eye roll and the hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth. 

“Get drunk then.”

“Yeah I tried that. Unfortunately there isn’t enough alcohol in existence to make me feel better about this.”

There’s a pause, a heaviness that settles, an unspoken _but you can_ that hangs on the tip of his tongue, that he knows she can feel. 

“Okay so, Roman, what do you want from me.” 

He breathes, blushes, says hurriedly, “Can you just like. fucking come over.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re pretty much part of the family, you can be my plus-one or whatever the fuck” 

“You want me to come over to my boss’s house, crash his family christmas get-together because what? You feel sad?” 

He starts to get hard despite himself. It’s fucking insane, the way he responds to her, the way she says one word and he’s practically coming all over his hand. And he sort of resents it except that he doesn’t at all. 

But right now isn’t really the ideal time, and he’s putting himself on the fucking line! Going out on a limb! Doing shit! 

“Look I’m trying to be sincere here, don’t shit all over it”

“Okay..”

“We haven’t even eaten yet and, I don’t know. I just think it might be… nice for everyone to have you here? Or whatever?”

“Rome I-”

His voice changes quickly, becoming hard and cold and sarcastic, turning his honesty into a deflection. The one thing he is good at, without a doubt. 

“But of course, if you’re too busy with your annual Christmas Eve sleigh ride to Masturbation Station, I for one completely understand. Fuck you.”

He hangs up without giving her time to respond, and within seconds he feels his phone vibrating. Gerri sent him a middle finger emoji. Roman’s struck by how warm this is, how easy. 

Connor bangs on the bathroom door and he jumps. 

“Roman, what the fuck! Get out of the bathroom man” 

He leaps to his feet and shoves the bottle behind the toilet and opens the door. 

Connor looks pissed and Roman can’t help himself from grinning. Getting under Con’s skin is truly one of life’s greatest pleasures. 

“What were doing in there, bro? Fucking jacking off? Jesus.” 

He chuckles and pushes past. 

“Something like that.”

He’s anxious and hot and _itchy_ , because he still doesn’t know if Gerri’s actually coming over, and for some reason Greg is trying to talk to him about the new Marvel movie or whatever the fuck, and he just cannot be there anymore.

He leaves Greg mid-sentence, practically tearing his phone out of his pocket, and going to his chat with Gerri.

  * _hey r u coming bitch_


  * Don’t call me a bitch and I might be more inclined to appease you.


  * thanks for answering my question. bitch.
  * You piece of shit, are you really that desperate to see me?



Roman shivers, feeling a flood of warmth rush through him. He doesn’t really want her here. Instead he just wants to escape with her, go somewhere quiet and safe where they can be alone and Gerri can call him a greedy little pig for the rest of his life. 

He plops himself down on the sofa and prays that no one sits down next to him and reads his texts. There’s movement next to him and he freezes, scrambling to close down the page, trying to pretend like he doesn’t feel like he just got caught looking at porn by his mother. He feels the weight of someone sitting down, a little too close, and he can’t look. 

But then he smells her perfume, _her_ perfume, and it’s sweet and cinnamony and he _melts._

“I had a really hard time with the security guard. It doesn’t seem like you told anyone I was coming.” 

Her voice is so cool and her body so warm next to him and he can’t help but smile when he looks up, turns to see her. 

“Gerri” he breathes and she rolls her eyes.

She’s wearing blue, deep royal blue satin and her hair is down and she’s just… breathtaking. 

“I hope you alerted someone, because I will not be happy at all if it turns out no one was expecting me.” 

Her tone is terrifying and promising and he worries at his tie.

“Yeah well I would’ve if I had known myself. Maybe I thought it would be a nice surprise?” 

Gerri just looks at him. 

And then Ken pops up from out of fucking no where, and then Shiv, and pretty soon it’s like a flock of crows circling them, asking questions and trading remarks. He hates this fucking family.

“What’s Gerri doing here?”

“Rome did you invite her?”

“Gerri, does he have something on you?”

“Romey did you miss your mommy?”

He makes to kick Kendall in the balls and they all back up.

“I simply want a lawyer present when all you asshats interrogate me. I need to protect my rights.” He says casually, pasting a smirk on his lips.

Thankfully, Marcia calls everyone for dinner and he can breathe. Heading over to the dining room, his phone vibrates in his hand. He looks and it reads

  * **I’m not happy, Roman**



He glances at her, and her back is to him like nothing is going on, and he can feel his chest tense and his face grow hot. He can’t believe they still have to get through dinner, doesn’t know if he can wait that long. He takes a seat and overhears Shiv muttering to Kendall.

“100 bucks he’s fucking her”

“Bet.”

Roman smiles to himself. Does _he_ get 100 bucks if they’re both wrong?

—-

Dinner is slow and dull and tense, and Roman spends most of it sending stupid memes to Gerri, which she doesn’t respond to. He fidgets, kicking her in the shins until she steps firmly on his foot without batting an eye. It’s too much, sitting here waiting, being ignored.

He plays out scenes in his head, because she’s sitting across from him with her blue dress and her blue eyes and she’s the most radiant person he’s ever laid eyes on, and he just can’t help himself.

He pictures Gerri spreading him out on the table and standing over him. Just standing there, sneering, in front of everyone. He pictures Gerri using his own belt on him, leaving welts so he can’t sit for days. There’s a desire to be owned by her. For everyone to know that he simply belongs to her.

He pictures sliding under the table, crawling over, pressing his face in between her thighs. He can imagine the way she would knee him sharply but shift to spread her legs wider. She would come so hard and so softly, shuddering and gripping him with her thighs. Who needs dinner, he could just eat Gerri forever.

“Hey, Ro-Ro, you having a wet dream over there?” Kendall asks and his voice is sarcastic and cutting and he just glares. 

Gerri looks at him for the first time since they sat down, and Roman is positive she knows exactly what he was thinking. It’s a cold, piercing gaze that she reserves for him, and he can’t get enough. And her foot slides up his leg slowly, the bitch, and he practically leaps out of his chair, yelping.

“Sorry! Sorry, I gotta go to the bathroom.”

He catches a glimpse of Gerri as he rushes out, and she’s just sitting there cutting up her food, and fuck she’s killing him.

He locks the door and leans against the wall, palming himself roughly, frantically. He’s so close and it’s becoming harder to control the little whimpers that escape his lips. And he feels his phone vibrate against his thigh. 

  * **Meet me upstairs. Two minutes.**



He almost comes on the spot.

**\---**

“On your knees like the disgusting rat you are.”

Gerri’s perched at the edge of the bed, sneering down at him with a vicious cold contempt that makes him squirm. Roman falls easily, naturally, to his place below her. This, he feels, is exactly where he’s meant to be. He reaches down to unbuckle his belt, his body already vibrating. Gerri kicks his hands away with the heel of her shoe, humming with disapproval. 

He whimpers. He feels pathetic and small, and fuck its so perfect

“I don’t think so, Roman.” Her scolding is only making him worse.

She shifts forward and grabs a fistfull of his hair, tugging his neck up and back till he’s practically choking. 

“You really can’t take your mind off your tiny rat dick for one second can you? Revolting.”

She falls silent, just holding him there like that, his entire throat exposed and his eyes watering from the sting of her fist in his hair. It’s so quiet he can hear the raspiness of his breathing, the heaviness of it, the way it catches in his throat. A sort of strangled gasp escapes from his lips and he blushes, feeling his dick grow even harder, if that's possible. 

Gerri speaks again, a tone so conversational Roman feels like he should applaud or something. She might as well have been giving him the rundown on some papers that needed signing.

“You know, for someone so staggeringly incompetant in every way, it’s quite impressive how singularly focused you can be when you apply yourself.” 

He manages to choke out a quiet “thank you,” and her grip only tightens. She’s gonna fucking rip his hair straight out of his scalp or something, but it feels so fucking good and so right he doesn’t even care. 

“Mmm. It would be nice, however, if your singular focus was something other than your shriveled little cock. You can barely control yourself for two minutes. It’s rather pitiful, really Roman.” She brushes the bulge in his pants with the tip of her shoe. 

“I bet you’re about to come right now, just from this. Hmm?”

He tries to nod, because she’s fucking right. If she told him to come right now he would. No touching required. Just the icy caress of her voice, and he’d lose control. 

Gerri pulls him closer to her, spreading her thighs and tugging her dress up around her hips. Oh god. Roman can smell her now and his mouth drops open and he becomes flooded with a hot, pulsing hunger. From his distance he can see her cunt glistening. She’s so wet he thinks he might go insane. Fuck if he hasn’t already. 

“Let’s do a little experiment, Roman. Let’s see how well you can apply yourself to this. Let’s see if you fail here too.”

He’s straining against her grasp now, desperate to just feel her on his lips, taste her. There’s a sort of feral yearning that tugs at him, a craving to consume her, to have her inside of him. 

He’s so _fucking hungry_. 

Finally, finally, she yanks him forward, shoving his head between her thighs and his mouth right onto her cunt. Roman is at once overwhelmed with taste and scent and the feeling of it, of her heat and her softness and her wetness. He feels frenzied, overcome, completely out of control as he laps at her ravenously. She pulls him until he literally cannot get closer, until he can’t breathe. 

Gerri’s voice is raspy and deep, and it warms him to know that she really is getting something out of all of this.

“You really are fucking awful at this. You’re such a fuckup you can’t even eat me out right. You despicable worm fuck.”

He moans into her and she scoffs. He wants to be good, he wants to be good at this more than he’s ever wanted to be good at anything in his life. He licks and sucks and _tries_ until he thinks he’s suffocating, or maybe drowning. And what Gerri filling all of his senses, he thinks it might not be a bad way to go. 

She’s rocking her hips now, jerking, grinding herself against his tongue, his nose, his chin. 

“You ever heard of a clit?” she hisses “Jesus fuck, you imbecile.”

He feels her hand release his hair and he sighs out of loss and relief, but only feels worse when she pushes him away altogether. His face is cool and sticky from sweat and Gerri’s arousal, and his licks his lips greedily. He’s hazy, his vision murky and his jaw still slack. He wants to ask her to take him back, to plead even, but he can’t seem to speak. All he can do is mouth at her, lips falling open in silent prayer.

“Oh you liked that? What would you do if everyone came in here right now and saw you? On your knees, about to come in your pants, covered in my cunt and half delirious? It’s shameful, is what it is, Roman.”

“I-”

“Oh you think you can speak now? Is that it?”

Roman stops, swallowing hard.

“I didn’t think so. Lay down on your back. Now.”

He scrambles to his back and Gerri moves to straddle his head with her knees. Not bothering to ease down slowly, she smothers him, leaving all her weight on his mouth and chin. She leans forward to place a hand on the floor above him, and presses the other to his head to hold it in place. And she begins to grind, really hump his face. Fuck. 

Roman feels himself getting sticky, feels the awful tight pressure of his pants against his cock, feels his hips rocking despite himself. And he’s really moaning now, trying so hard to put as much pressure on her clit as possible. 

She comes silent and shaking, locking her thighs around his head and holding him there so tight he can’t breathe. Her hips jerk and she sighs and _gushes_ , and he drinks it all like he’s never known food or water before. He laps at her as she comes and even after she’s finished, licks until she moves away. 

She stands and pulls her dress back down, leaving Roman laying on the floor, desperately and humiliatingly missing her in his mouth. He sucks her flavor off his lips and closes his eyes to smell the juices she left on him.

Gerri clears her throat and Roman snaps back from his trance. 

“We better head back down.”

What about him? Fuck. He’s practically leaked through his pants, he can’t go down like this. But Gerri’s already slipping out the door. So he leaps up and wipes his mouth and wills his dick to calm the fuck down. 

He can’t possibly last the rest of the night. And he knows Gerri knows that. 

Merry fucking Christmas to him.

**Author's Note:**

> j smith cameron i’m single, gay, and free anytime PLEASE hmu @ [redacted]


End file.
